FLASH
Shkruar nga Afrim Imaj 
The rare story of an African who grew up and graduated in Albania. The drama of the breakthrough from the birthplace and the career among the white shirts in Tirana. Albanian days of the black man
Urbain Masena was baptized by his mother in his hometown, Kinshasa. Yes, he would be called by this name until he was 15 years old. Later, life's troubles would take him away and the boy, who would lose his birthplace, would forget his mother's name along with it. When he would arrive in Albania, there from the beginning of the 60s, the locals would have a hard time pronouncing his real name and would call him Arbe. And since then, this name would remain. He is now 65 years old and has been living for years in a simple apartment somewhere, at the end of "Bardhyl" street. Arriving in our country at the time when Congo was consumed by the flames of civil war, he grew up in the care of the Albanian society and after graduating from the Faculty of Medicine, he continues to serve among the white shirts. For many years he served as a doctor in the city of Vora. He is grateful for what the Albanians have offered him and, as he says, he tries to reward you with dedication. But what is the story of the Congolese, who has made a name for himself in the Albanian white shirt corps...
From Kinshasa to Tirana, the journey of painful drama
Urbain Masena came to Tirana in the early 60s. He was fifteen years old. Alone, traumatized and unknown to any of the other passengers, who were leaving Kinshasa and heading in panic somewhere far, far away. Tirana had never even heard the word Albania. In his memory, that terrifying journey has remained fixed with details. What he experienced when he landed for the first time in the land that was pronounced Albani, were moments of excitement and surprise at the same time. As he returns to them now, after almost five decades, he tears up and confesses with admirable calmness...
"I remember that the "Red Cross" boarded us on the plane, but no one explained to us where we were going. Kinshasa was buzzing with rifles and machine guns in those days. The coup had plunged the country into a civil war. The first blow had fallen on the government cabinet and the legitimate representatives of the state. My father was the first of the ministers to fall into the hands of the rebels and was imprisoned. The others then, were either annihilated, or were isolated somewhere. The putschists had come with the violence of weapons to the head of the institutions and with weapons they had exterminated all those they found in the state offices. Chaos and war had permeated the entire Congo. We, the children of high officials, were left on the streets, in pursuit of the rebel forces that had come to power. Their revenge and retribution did not even spare the lives of children and women. Many of the family members of the officials were victims of this unrestrained war. Other eyes were lost without an address. The only contribution to help us was that of the "Red Cross", which tried to save what it could from the innocent lives of terrorized children. His missionaries gathered children in war-torn regions and sent them to liberated countries. I was lucky to find myself in Albania thanks to their care. So, with tears in my eyes, I arrived from Kinshasa to Tirana. Only here I remembered about the rest of the family. After many years I found out their whereabouts. The mother and one of the brothers were settled in Sweden. Others were scattered from Finland, Belgium, the Czech Republic and even Canada...”
This is how the son of the Minister of the Interior in Mobuto's cabinet, Urbain Masena, was found in Albania. First to save his head, as he says. Then to integrate with dignity in the Albanian society. (Continued…)/ Pamphlet
Lini një Përgjigje